this is a story i had to write for english class one year about a dream i recently had.
I know I was supposed to go somewhere. I still can’t recall exactly where I was going or the importance of it, just that I needed to be somewhere.
I was sitting on the top steps of the staircase in my small townhouse, when I heard what would be a life-changing knock on the door. Too lazy to leave my spot on the steps and walk down all sixteen of them and peer my head over to see who was there, I just sat where I was, and rested my head on my knees, knowing it’d now be awhile before I was to go where I had to be.
I lifted my head to hear the laughter and joyful conversation going on downstairs. I could tell the voice of my mother, the other voice…it sounded so familiar…who could it be? I got up from my cozy spot on the steps and slowly walked down a few stairs, carefully trying to match the strange yet extremely familiar voice with a face in my memory.
“…It’s been so long dear,” I heard my mom say as I was half way down the staircase. I lend against the wall and listened to the rest of the conversation, hoping the identity of the mystery voice would hit me.
“Too long,” to voice said. It’s was a boy’s voice. Sounded like someone around my age, maybe a year or two older.
“You must go upstairs, Jessi will be so happy to see you,” my mom exclaimed.
Then it hit me.
I knew who the voice was.
I froze where I stood as I heard his footsteps draw nearer. My feet seemed to be glued to the wooden steps and my legs lost all knowledge on how to functionally walk. Before I could even take a deep breath and prepare myself, there he stood at the bottom of the staircase staring right up at me. My love had come back.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only for his being here right at this very moment, but also on how little he had changed. He still had the same emerald green eyes that were the windows to one of the most sincere, sweetest people to ever grace the world. He still had the same curly hair I would love to brush every morning in Art class. But most importantly, he still had the same boyish smile that could make me fall in love with him over and over again.
I walked all the way down the stairs until we were right in front of each other. Unable to wait a second longer, I wrapped my arms around his broad body and hugged him as hard as I possibly could, showing him just how much I had missed him. And I was happy to feel him missed me just as much. Still having my arms wrapped around him, I looked up at him and into his beautiful eyes. He smiled at me while he looked into mine, and gently brushed my bangs out of my face. I had missed him so much for so long; it was hard to believe this could actually be real. I was really holding my love in my arms. This moment, a moment I had only dreamed of happening, was finally real. This was finally real.
Then, as if to ruin my happiness and bring me back down to Earth, a thousand questions came rushing through my head. Why was he heard? Why, after all this time, had he decided to come? And how did he know where to find me? I can’t remember ever telling him my address.
My confusion must have been greatly noticeable since when I looked back up at my love, his face was full of worry and concern. Needing to know the answers to my burning questions, I opened my mouth to ask, only to be cut off by my mother calling him into the other room. He turned his head toward to end of the staircase and back at me, giving me and apologetic look. He then kissed my forehead and walked away.
As soon as I could no longer see him, I ran back upstairs and locked myself into the bathroom. I shrugged down onto the floor, full of confusion and doubt. Something inside of me couldn’t accept that this was happening, that I was actually seeing my love again. But another part of me couldn’t bear to think it was all a dream either. This HAD to be happening. Everything else was exactly the same. My home, my appearance, my everything.
After pulling myself together, I unlocked the door and ran downstairs, ready to be in the arms of my love again. But when I reached the living room, he was nowhere in sight. Now growing greatly concerned, I ran through every room in the house, hoping with all my might that he would be there. But each room I checked only made the hole in my heart grow bigger. My love was gone. And not one single word was uttered between us.
I sat down at my original place on the staircase, trying not to let the tears forming in my eyes spill over. And at the very moment that first tear rolled down my cheek, I awoke in my warm, comfy bed, to find that it was all really a dream, and that the hurt still lingered from when I was sting on the staircase.